


Final Day's Eve

by vol_ctrl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Drinking, Drunk Angel Dust, Drunk idiots, Extermination Day, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gallows Humor, Holidays, Hugs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, Nice Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Preparing for Extermination, Rescue Missions, Sad and Happy, Smoking, Surprise Party, Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Weird Biology, sad charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: Charlie has been called home on the eve of the Extermination, quashing her hopes of celebrating a new tradition:New Year'sEve. Alastor attempts to lighten Vaggie's spirits as they hunker down at the hotel, while Angel and Husk hatch a plot to rescue Charlie. Happy New Year! Welcome to the Final Day before Extermination...
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Cherri Bomb (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 24
Kudos: 180





	Final Day's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!!
> 
> My theory is that there is a big "New Year's Eve" sort of "celebration" (aka riots and debauchery) on the night before the Extermination, so I wanted to make a New Year's Eve themed fic about it! Of course, down in Hell with the Extermination looming, this kind of "celebration" isn't exactly happy... but that doesn't mean they won't make the most of it.
> 
> While I was finishing up this fic, I found the PERFECT art that spoke to exactly what I had in mind! Check out [this New Year's art by Karumkin](https://twitter.com/karumkin/status/1212053115458838533?s=20)!

“Why so glum, chum?” 

Charlie heaved a sigh and dragged her gaze away from the glittering view of the city. The din from the streets was audible, even from the high reaches of the mansion, part celebratory ruckus, part panicked horror of the oncoming extermination the end of the year brought.

“Smile, my dear!” Lucifer said brightly, beaming over at his daughter.

Charlie attempted a smile, but it turned out more grimace in the blinding brilliance of her father’s own. “You’re never fully dressed without one,” Charlie intoned with forced levity. She should’ve known thinking of Alastor would only remind her that they were apart and worsen her mood; a fresh wave of melancholy and concern washed over her.

“That’s the spirit,” Lucifer said and looked out over his domain. “There’s no need to worry. We’ll ride out the storm here in style. Just like we always do.”

Charlie turned her back on the city, clutching the balcony railing tightly.

Lucifer glanced over at his daughter, noting the serious clench of her jaw. “It’s tradition,” Lucifer insisted and lifted Charlie’s chin in his fingers. “You didn’t think I’d really let you stay at your silly hotel for Final Day’s Eve, did you?”

Charlie pushed her father’s hand away. “New Year’s Eve, Dad. Please?”

Lucifer chuckled. “You don’t fuck with tradition, darling.” He sighed. “But my little apple fell a bit further from the tree, didn’t you?”

Charlie felt the familiar sting of disapproval in his light tone.

“All your friends have survived this long, haven’t they?” Lucifer tried to cheer his daughter. “Old hat to them, the silly old extermination.”

Charlie sighed and gripped at her arm.

“You’re worried about Vaggie, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I’m worried about everyone, Dad!” Charlie burst.

Lucifer chuckled and took Charlie by the shoulders. “You wear your responsibility so well. That’s my princess.” He kissed her forehead. “But you have to be realistic, darling,” he said as he swept an arm around her shoulders and led her away from the view of Pentagram City in the grips of the death throes of celebration before the inevitable extermination of a fraction of its populace. “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.”

“I know I can’t rewrite history,” Charlie sighed. “But I can write the future.”

Lucifer’s hooded eyes admired the determination shining in Charlie’s eyes.

Vaggie sat hunched in a chair in the middle of the hotel lobby, armed to the teeth. She had always found bladed weapons more reliable than anything that required ammunition. Her trusty spear kept her hand still, and the many knives strapped to her limbs steadied her muscles. The weight of the bandolier of darts across her chest and the thick leather coat she wore comforted her.

She stared at the door and tried to ignore the smooth swing music drifting from the sitting room. As if the peppy music wasn’t bad enough, the hotel was festooned in cheerful decorations. Charlie had been looking forward to celebrating the “New Year,” sans the usual Final Day doom, gloom, and debauchery. That is, until her father, Lord of Hell, had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not going to spend Final Day’s Eve at the hotel.

Vaggie willed herself not to think about Charlie clinging to her the night before, to forget the feeling of tears spilling onto her neck. Charlie was so strong--she’d given a rousing speech to the hotel’s occupants before she left, but Vaggie knew how heavy her heart must have been. She didn’t even break into song.

She had sung. Privately, to an audience of one, crooned to Vaggie that last night. Her fear, her hope, her love for both her girlfriend and her friends. They fell asleep with tears in their eyes.

A sudden pop made Vaggie jump to her feet, eye wide as her head whipped around on a swivel. Her gaze stopped short on the only other occupant of the hotel: the damned radio demon.

Alastor chuckled and put down a champagne cork quietly. “You know the extermination won’t start until the Final Day is over. Might as well enjoy what may be our final hours!”

Vaggie grinded her teeth. “You laugh, but even your days could be numbered, Shitlord!” Vaggie growled.

“Well, yes. I’m counting on that.” A champagne coupe appeared in Alastor’s hand with a flick of his wrist. “And I intend to enjoy this life, such as it is, to my very last.” He poured into the glass with a flourish and offered it toward Vaggie. “Champagne?”

Vaggie glared at the radio demon. “How can you be so relaxed?”

“There’s no point in getting so worked up. It’s just the same thing every year.” Alastor set down the glass and made another appear so he could pour a second glass, despite Vaggie’s apparent disinterest. “And in my line of work--day in, day out, so much destruction.”

Some of the fight left Vaggie at Alastor’s frank assessment. “Aren’t you… afraid?” she asked tersely.

“Why only a fool wouldn’t feel an ounce of fear, my dear. Isn’t it exciting?” Alastor smiled brightly and gathered both glasses. “You know how  _ bored  _ I get with the hum-drum.” He sighed and met Vaggie in the lobby, offering her a glass. “This has been quite a year, hasn’t it?”

Even in the year that had passed since the radio demon had first darkened their doorstep, Vaggie had not warmed to the Shitlord’s charm. She never trusted him, and yet she had grown used to him. He always spoke his mind--or so it seemed, at least.

“Ahh, best year of my life--well,” he chuckled, “after life.” He extended a champagne coupe to Vaggie. “All thanks to you, my dear. And our darling Charlie.”

Vaggie was taken aback at the honesty in Alastor’s simple admission. She never believed him before over the past year when something genuine and kind came from his lips, but Alastor was nothing if not full of surprises.

Charlie had announced earlier that month that they would be celebrating Christmas. This was met by derisive laughter from Angel, who couldn’t stop shouting about how hilarious it was to celebrate a stupid religious holiday like that in Hell. Husk had downed near a half bottle of cheap booze in response and looked well and ready to end his life all over again. Vaggie, of course, would support Charlie in all of her endeavors, but even this seemed dicey. And yet, it was par for the course of Charlie’s schemes to increase positivity and happiness within the hotel. She insisted it would be a wonderful way to celebrate with their  _ found  _ family. Vaggie had her reservations, given how holidays had gone in the crowded household in her life before.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Alastor who shouted above the din of Angel’s tirade.

_ “Marvelous! Why, I haven’t had a Christmas since 1932!” _

Niffty immediately went to work adding a host of Christmasy touches throughout the lobby and common areas. Alastor manifested a most magnificent tree, and it was  _ he  _ who suggested they decorate it together. Vaggie thought Charlie was going to burst.

Charlie’s Christmas spirit was indomitable, but without Alastor’s gentle encouragement for participation, Vaggie was sure it would have been a bust. Somehow that wily radio demon roped everyone into enjoying everything. Angel had made no attempt to muffle his mockery of the advent calendar and its tiny presents, but with a well-placed threat from the radio demon, he began singing a different tune. Alastor had seemed to take a special shine to singing carols; to the point that Charlie handed over leading the proceedings to the deer. Even Vaggie thought the donations to the downtrodden of Pentagram City was a lost cause, given that they were the most likely to be the first to fall at the hands of the Exterminators, but Alastor would not be deterred. 

_ “Might as well give the poor bastards one last little spark of joy before they’re extinguished, wouldn’t you say, my dear?” _

Vaggie despised being called any diminutive by Alastor, but even she had learned to decode Alastor’s strange brand of kindness. But how could a monster like him be kind at all? It had to be a ruse.

The last shock, the real kicker, was what they had come downstairs to on Christmas morning. Even Charlie was shocked. She, of course, had bought or made a present for each and every one of the occupants of the hotel, but they came to find a veritable mountain of gifts under the tree that morning.

Alastor. Alastor had bought presents for every last one of them.

“How... “ Vaggie shook her head from staring at the offered glass. “How can you be so positive at a time like this?” She was determined Alastor was blinded by pride--and maybe, just maybe, a small part of her found just a smidge of comfort in that. After all, he  _ was  _ one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell, and as far as she knew, he was on their side. At the very least, his self-preservation might keep those around him safe. Small comfort, given his company.

“You always worry, my dear. And what does it get you? Nothing but strife!” Alastor said lightly. Seeing Vaggie’s unflagging stalwart stance, Alastor sighed again. “Put down the damn spear and take the champagne.”

Vaggie stubborn brow began to break, turning to uncertainty.

“Come, my dear! This is the best moment in your life! Right now!”

“But it’s  _ not, _ ” Vaggie said, surprised by the soft break in her own voice. Angered by her own weakness, she doubled down and stamped the staff of the spear against the ground. “I’m here! Alone! Stuck with  _ you!  _ The last person in Hell I want to spend my last hours with!”

“Well, you’ll die miserable with that attitude.” Alastor straightened, almost retracted the offer of champagne. He considered the glasses, then snorted. “I can’t drink to my health alone,” he insisted.

Vaggie glared at Alastor, tension pouring back into her jaw.

“I welcome death,” Alastor said easily. “That’s the only way to enjoy life to the fullest.”

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself,” Vaggie sneered.

“Ohh, that’s not true.” Alastor swept his arm aside cheerily. “Drink.”

Vaggie was suddenly struck by the offer. Alastor wasn’t just being flippant and dismissive of the fear looming over the entire city. He was being  _ present,  _ actively trying to assuage her nerves. She was aghast by the realization.

“You really… welcome death?” Vaggie asked cautiously. Alastor seemed all smiles, as always, but was that just a mask?

“I would prefer not to die. But what is life if not the foil of death?”

Vaggie looked at the champagne warily. Slowly, she reached out to accept it.

“There we are,” Alastor preened warmly. “To spitting in the face of death,” he suggested, lifting his glass in a toast.

Vaggie couldn’t help the bemused smile that crept onto her lips. With a sigh, she agreed, “To spitting in the face of death.”

“Don’t push it, Angel!” Husk shouted as Angel tossed another string of beads around his neck.

“Careful throwin’ that word around this time of year!” Cherri shouted back with a laugh. “Angie--good ol’ Angie!” She tossed an arm around Angel’s neck, dragging him down to her level so she could rattle the costume horns he was wearing on his head.

Angel Dust laughed and rattled in his armored costume. He, like a smattering of others, were dressed as angel Exterminators for the Final Day festivities. “Fuck off, Cherri--don’t fuck with my horns! These were cheap!”

“All the more reason to break ‘em!”

“I’m gettin’ another drink,” Husk muttered. He turned toward the crowded bar and groaned.

“Make it three!” Angel said cheerfully.

“Four!” Niffty piped up with a grin.

“Are ya even allowed to drink?” Angel asked.

Cherri cackled. “The fuck you on, Angie? You think there’s a fuckin’ drinkin’ age in Hell?”

The pair, who had been drinking solidly since a breakfast of Irish coffee that morning, followed by Irish carbombs for lunch, with many shots in between, were well in their cups. It was par for the course for their usual Final Day’s Eve tradition. Angel would not admit that this year he was also drinking away his sorrows that their misfit little hazbin gang was broken up for the anniversary of the real start of the hotel. 

It had taken a great deal of pleading to get Husk to leave the hotel with them, but the promise of free drinks helped. After all, Angel was a star, and Cherri was well regarded as someone to stay in the good graces of given her penchant for blowing up anybody or anywhere that didn’t suit her fiery presence.

“Ugh, I wish Al was here,” Angel groaned.

“Yer so fucking sweet on him it’s givin’ me cavities,” Cherri teased.

“Shut up! I ain’t sweet on nobody.”

“You are rather sweet on Mister Al,” Niffty said quickly.

“Shut up!” Angel shouted again. “Th’ guy’s good fer clearin’ a fuckin’ crowd izwhat I mean.” Angel would not classify himself sweet on Alastor. Their relationship from the get-go had been rocky at best, and verging on violent at worst. It had come to a head sometime during the summer, when the heat made even the most level-headed demons crazy. Charlie had rallied the occupants of the hotel out to a local swimming pool. Considering the sheer number of bodies packed into the public space, it didn’t actually do much to ease anyone’s tension. Frankly, a disaster, Angel had heard.

He hadn’t been there. Work left him even more hot and irritated than usual. He’d found Alastor sitting out on one of the balconies at the hotel, drinking that thick chicory coffee he liked so much, and surprisingly dressed down--his coat hung over the back of his chair, bow-tie undone along with the first few buttons of his shirt. As if that wasn’t enough to stir Angel’s loins, the radio demon’s sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, exposing the black that crept up his scarred arms, his hair pulled back from his brow.

Alastor had been less than thrilled that Angel found him in such a casual state. And, of course, Angel couldn’t help being himself, full of lewd compliments and even more suggestive offers. It did not go well. Soon Angel found himself dangling precariously from the edge of the balcony, sphincter and spinnerets clenched tight as Alastor’s claws dug into his throat.

_ “Do you know why I haven’t eviscerated you yet, Angel Dust, despite your insistence on disrespecting me at EVERY opportunity?” _

Disrespect?! Angel was just complimenting him! So what if he couldn’t turn off his natural charm?

_ “I like you.” _

The hungry look in Alastor’s eyes had sent Angel’s mind reeling, both more attracted to Alastor than ever, and more terrified.

_ “Obviously.” _

There was nothing obvious about it!

_ “If I had wanted to harm you, I would have done so already.” _

Checks out.

It was the part about the disrespect that really stung. Angel didn’t want Al to think he didn’t respect him. So he changed his tune--or tried to, at least. Much to his surprise, Angel found that the more space he gave Alastor, the more the radio demon doted on him. It went against everything Angel had ever known.

What had begun as a battle of wills turned into a surprisingly easy-going friendship. Angel discovered the beauty of a friendship based not on desire and a cat and mouse game, but something more. A kind of bond he cherished more than all the money in the world, more than the best orgasms of his life.

“Angie? Earth to Angie?” Cherri laughed.

Angel snapped from his thoughts and found Husk had returned with a round of shots expertly balanced in one paw. He looked nonplussed, that signature frown on his lips.

“Happy fuckin’ Final Day,” Angel slurred and grabbed a shot glass from Husk.

The cat demon doled out the rest, daintily depositing one between his claws down to Niffty.

“Happy Final Day!” Niffty cheered and swiftly downed her shot.

The rest jostled and laughed in a hurry to join her with shouts and cheers.

Angel sighed as the shot burned down his throat and locked eyes with Husk. The room felt crowded and oppressive, and though Angel was with a smattering of his friends out on the town, it felt lacking.

“Have a dart,” Husk muttered.

Angel grinned suddenly, filled with a rush of affection for that familiar phrase of Husk’s. “I’d have a dart,” he replied playfully.

“What?” Cherri muttered.

“A smoke. Cowboy killers. A square. Fag. Death stick,” Niffty replied rapid-fire. “A cigarette.”

“Okay, I get it,” Cherri snapped. “Have fun, boys. I’ma go see the dance floor.”

“Ooh, me too!” Niffty agreed giddily. “So many men here.”

Angel waved as he began to weave through the crowd with Husk to the door. He felt hands drag past him, sliding over his body in the tight press of the crowd. The crisp air outside came as a relief, and Angel found himself longing for a different kind of warmth than the stuffy, sticky heat of the bar. Be nice at the hotel. But lonely. Without Charlie, the hotel always felt hollow.

Angel sauntered naturally with Husk around the corner to the alley. It was nearly as crowded at the street, but by far less crowded than the bar.

Husk tapped a cigarette out of his soft pack and took it between his lips, then tapped another out and offered it to Angel. The spider demon took it with a smile and allowed Husk to light it for him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Husk grumbled.

“What’cha mean?”

“Yer usually the life of the party. Seem kinda dull tonight.”

Angel sighed. “It’s a fucking bummer, innit!” he shouted. “No fuckin’ Charlie. Fuckin’ sucks.”

Husk huffed out a laugh. “Princess’s gotta be locked up in the high tower. Safe and sound,” he purred.

“Fuck that!” Angel spat. “She don’t wanna be there. She’s a grown ass woman, ain’t she?”

Husk peered up at Angel, eyebrows raised. “She’s the princess of Hell. You think Big Daddy’s gonna let her be down here durin’ the extermination?”

“Fuck that, man. Fuck that. She ain’t no prisoner to her daddy.”

“What’re ya sayin’, Angel?”

“I’m sayin’...” Angel stamped a high-heeled boot. “I’m sayin’ we fuckin’ bust her out! If she wants to be with us, then--fuck what  _ daddy  _ says.”

Husk laughed and sucked at his cigarette. “Pitter patter. Let’s get at ‘er.”

Angel grinned wide at Husk.

Charlie lay in a sorry heap on the lounge in the parlor. Lucifer’s clever fingers moved over the ivories of the grand piano central in the elegant, high-ceilinged room, plucking out a tune as Lillith accompanied with her honey-sweet voice. They only had eyes for each other. They had always been that way, but even more so now that Charlie lived full time at the hotel.

Well, almost full time. Here she was now, right when her friends might need her most. She worried about Angel, who she was sure was undoing all of his good deeds and efforts toward redemption in one night. She worried about Husk, despite his stern denial that he was worth worrying about. She worried about Niffty, such a little thing. She worried about Vaggie, who had lost an eye in one of the exterminations; much too close to utter obliviation for Charlie’s comfort, even if she hadn’t known Vaggie then. She worried about Alastor, that he might go too far, that he might lose himself to his shadow.

She was so proud of all of them, and it broke her heart that she couldn’t be there with them when it mattered most. Alastor had promised he would look after  _ ‘his investment,’  _ as he called it, in her absence. Vaggie, in turn, had promised to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get up to any funny business.

Vaggie was still hard on Alastor, but Charlie could see how far her girlfriend had come to accepting him. There would always be a hair-trigger on her wrath, but Charlie had witnessed Vaggie coming around to all of the usual suspects in the hotel.

She thought of a particular day in the springtime. It had been raining like Hell--which is to say, acid rain that kept nigh everyone inside, except for the imps who were immune to it, and even they didn’t seem to like it. Everyone in the hotel was restless. 

It had only been a couple months since the hotel’s “grand opening” disaster, and Charlie had yet to see much progress. Angel kept relapsing, to the point that her words, encouraging or stern, were losing their effect on his conscience. Husk had made zero attempts at all to curb his drinking or cope with his malaise. Hiding the booze didn’t work, pouring it down the drain didn’t work--Husk would just go out gambling and restock his stash. Alastor didn’t seem to fathom that Charlie expected him to work toward redemption  _ at all,  _ and that was frankly more than Charlie could pile on her plate then.

What had started as a petty squabble between Angel and Niffty over his propensity to leave magazines on virtually every surface in the common areas turned into an all out shouting match. Husk joined the fray to tell Angel off for yelling at Niffty. Vaggie piled on the ferocity and tried to break up the rising tensions. Charlie was at her wits end, eyes hot with tears as she watched the tenuous balance threaten to crumble before her.

_ “What noise!”  _ Alastor had shouted over the din, loud enough to fill a stadium. Everyone stopped short to cover their ears, Husk in particular glaring at him as he held his ears flat against his head.

_ “Such aimless ruckus,”  _ Alastor had tutted.  _ “Husker, my friend, you do still play the guitar, don’t you?” _

Husk had grumbled something unintelligible.

_ “Surely you can do something other than grope and fight with those many hands of yours, Angel Dust?” _

Angel had frowned, but shrugged.

Suddenly, with a snap of Alastor’s fingers, everyone had an instrument in hand. Angel took to the stand-up piano against the wall, Husk slumped into a chair with an acoustic guitar, Vaggie found herself balancing a stand-up bass instead of her usual spear, and Niffty grinned with delight at the shiny flute in her hands. Alastor, himself, had a trusty fiddle that looked well-loved.

The argument vanished in lieu of a tune, faltering at first. Instead of sneers and jabs, the tenants of the hotel laughed at their clumsy attempts. Charlie watched in awe as Alastor led the group of misfits that had been at each other’s throats moments ago into an impromptu concert. Her eyes filled with tears yet again, but this time with unbridled joy.

Charlie sniffed as she listened to her mother and father laugh together, some private joke. She felt so alone.

The tears were piling up in her eyes and she could do nothing to stop them. She stood up so as not to let her parents see and walked quickly to the bathroom. With the door shut, she crumpled to the ground and wept into her hands.

Then she heard a noise. A crash. Something knocking. She gasped and stood up. Was the extermination starting already? She rushed out of the bathroom and to the balcony down the hall. She flung open the doors, then had to duck before she was struck by a projectile. Panicked, she looked at what had been thrown. It was… a piece of candy?

She picked it up and examined it. Some hard rock candy, the kind that was popular around this time of year. Slowly, she stood and walked toward the edge of the balcony. First, she saw the ominous curved horns of an Exterminator and the breath swiftly left her lungs.

“PRINCESS!” Angel shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Angel?!” Charlie gasped. The “angel” exterminator was actually just Angel Dust, standing there in a goofy costume on the other side of the high, spiked fence that surrounded the mansion. Beside him stood a disgruntled-looking Husk nearly drowning in beads around his neck with a bowl of candy he had likely pilfered from some establishment. Charlie looked back sharply to make sure her parents hadn’t heard Angel shouting.

“WE DIDN’T KNOW WHICH WINDOW WAS YOURS!”

“Angel!!” Charlie hissed. “Keep it down!!”

“I THINK WE BROKE A--huh? Oh. Uhh..  _ I think we broke a window, _ ” Angel hissed back to Charlie.

Charlie’s smile burst through her tears as she laughed. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Rescue mission,” Angel said proudly.

“What?!” Charlie asked incredulously.

“Come down from your ivory tower! Party with us!” Angel said.

“I-I can’t,” Charlie said sadly, but so full of affection for Angel’s intentions.

Angel planted his hands on his hips. “Alright, plan B,” Angel muttered to Husk.

Husk sighed and shook his head.

Angel walked up to the fence and started climbing up the slick rails. As to be expected, even for a spider, he slid down a bit with each grasp of the rail.

“Angel, no!” Charlie hissed. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Am not,” Angel said with drunk confidence. “Husk--gimme a boost.”

“Hell no.”

“Come on, man!”

Husk growled, then put down the candy and walked over and shoved at Angel’s ass to boost him up.

“Oooh ~ don’t get too handsy back there ~” Angel purred.

“Shut the fuck up. I hope you get impaled on those spikes.”

“Kinky,” Angel shot back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Husk shoved Angel harder and the spider managed to find purchase.

Somehow, Angel managed to scramble up to the top of the fence. He straddled one of the ferocious spikes and shot Husk a look with a waggle of eyebrows. “Yer gonna get an eyefull, buddy.”

Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel, only to have them swiftly fly wide as Angel wriggled his skin-tight mini-skirt up. “Oh, Jesus! The fuck are you doing? Fuckin’ get it together, man.”

Angel just laughed. If he had been any less drunk, he would have been far more modest about using his spinnerets. As it was, this had been his plan, more or less, from the get go. A daring rescue by using his spidery talents to scale the walls of the mansion. Once he had a bit of silk spooled into his hand, he formed the end into a gooey ball and swung it over his head like a mace. With a grunt, he flung it at the balcony. It was quite a few storeys up and Angel’s vision wasn’t exactly good at this point, so it fell short. With a grumble, he tried again.

After a good five tries, Angel finally caught the balcony and hissed a “Yess!” in victory. “This is a kidnapping!” Angel called up. “If ya know what’s good for ya, ya’ll come with us!” The spider demon secured the other end of the silk to the fence. With bizarre ease, Angel shimmied up the length of web.

Charlie was frozen in shock. Angel really meant it. He was coming to rescue her. So they could all be together for Final Day--no, for  _ New Year’s Eve. _ She shot a look back into the mansion. Her father was still playing, her mother still singing, out of view of the long hall that led to the balcony.

With a wild grin, Charlie darted back to close the balcony doors. She turned to find Angel sitting pretty on the balcony railing, legs crossed and one arm braced on the stone, a hand extended to her.

Without a second thought, Charlie leapt into Angel’s arms and hugged him tight, burying her face in the fluff of his chest.

Angel wobbled, “Woah, woah!” He caught himself before he toppled ass over tea kettle off the balcony, and laughed. He hugged Charlie tightly, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt--or would have, if he had any feeling left in his drunk face.

“Thank you!!” Charlie cried, tears in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me yet. We still gotta get back down,” Angel snickered. He gave a jerk of his head. “Hop on, toots.”

Charlie clambered onto Angel’s back, gladly hugging him from behind.

With a kind of fluid motion only being this drunk could accomplish, Angel slid back down the silk rope. “Mind the spikes,” Angel said as he crept onto the narrow rail of the fence. 

Only now did Husk look concerned as Angel dismounted from the fence, wary of Charlie falling off his back.

Charlie shivered as she slid from Angel’s back and onto solid ground, partly out of fear, but mostly from excitement. “Husk!” she cried and wrapped the cat demon up in a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, yer welcome,” Husk muttered, but gave Charlie a little pat on the back.

“Is everyone at the hotel?” Charlie asked eagerly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Angel shrugged. “I just couldn’t party without ya.”

Charlie was practically vibrating all the way back to the hotel.

“Well,” Alastor suddenly perked up. “Let’s get the festivities underway…” he drawled with a smile at Vaggie.

“Huh?”

Alastor leapt to his feet. “There’s going to be a party after all!” he said cheerfully. “This calls for a change in music.” With a twirl of his microphone, the rather sedate instrumental music took on a much faster swing beat and grew louder through every speaker throughout the hotel.

“What’s going on?” Vaggie asked with concern. “It’s getting late--the-the extermination is starting soon. You can’t blast that music--what if--”

“There, there, my dear. What did I tell you about living life to the fullest?” Alastor turned on his heel with an enigmatic smile. Pointing his microphone like a wand, Alastor made a table suddenly pop into existence from a void in the floor, a pyramid of champagne glasses clinking precariously atop it. He jazzed up the decorations with everlasting sparklers until the entire floor of the hotel was gleaming out the windows.

“What are you doing?” Vaggie begged as she pulled at her hair. “Are you trying to put a fucking spotlight on us?!”

“The guest of honor will be here any moment now!” Alastor swept back over to Vaggie and wrapped an arm around her tense shoulders, leaning in close. “Remember--happy  _ New Year. _ ”

The front doors flew open and in came Charlie, starry-eyed with the cheer of the hotel lobby.

“Happy--” Alastor began, but was cut off as Vaggie cried out.

“Charlie!” The two embraced desperately.

Angel, Husk, Cherri, and Niffty came in behind. Angel looked around at the glittering decorations, unable to help the wiggle of his hips to the loud, jazzy music.

“Like what you’ve done with the place, Al,” he said brightly. “How’d you know we were comin’? Or… were you n’ Vaggie partyin’ without us?”

Alastor smiled. “I hear things.”

Husk’s eyes were glued to the champagne pyramid. “Woah.” He was helpless to the magnetism of so much alcohol in one place, even if it was a little fancier than he usually went for.

“I restocked the bar, Husker,” Alastor said. “I hoped you would indulge us by playing bartender tonight.”

Husk shot Alastor a smirk. “You plannin’ on having a crowd?”

Alastor looked over at Charlie.

“Everyone’s invited!” she shouted.

Husk smirked as he headed for the bar.

Alastor twirled his microphone and gave the speaker a tap. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys, girls, and all you folks in between. The Happy Hotel will be hosting its first annual Extermination Celebration! You heard it here first--come one and all for one last chance at redemption!” Alastor announced to his adoring and frightened masses. “Happy New Year,” he crooned, low and brassy.

The hotel crew gathered, glasses of champagne all around, and toasted to being reunited. It did not take long for some of the wayward souls who had called the hotel home over the past year to come trickling back in. Every single one came to shake Charlie’s hand--proud of her for standing up to her dad (unaware of her daring escape), and grateful that she was down here just like the rest of them. Her very presence seemed to alleviate some of the fear that loomed over the holiday. The cheery atmosphere did the rest.

Within the hour, the hotel was jam-packed with revelers, friends and foes, strangers and acquaintances, all dancing and laughing and drinking together. Some imps had started throwing one of the sparkler decorations around, singing everything it touched. At some point, Angel had lost all his costume and ended up draped in nothing but streamers. Vaggie and Cherri had amassed a crowd to watch them play darts with deadly throwing knives. The game got progressively more dangerous as other demons attempted to join the game, but only one person lost an eye. Husk was beyond black-out drunk, but the cocktails kept coming, each more delicious than the last.

“This is the best New Year’s ever!” Charlie told Alastor, cheeks pinker than normal from the amount of champagne she had imbibed.

“Much more entertaining than sitting around waiting for death,” Alastor agreed and sipped at his glass of campari.

“Don’t you go dampening the mood,” Charlie argued good-naturedly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” Alastor peered over at Charlie. “Are you happy?”

Charlie bounced on her heels, fit to burst. She couldn’t express her gratitude in joy in words, so she settled for throwing her arms around Alastor.

He jostled and nearly spilled his drink, startled by the sudden embrace. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had forced an unsolicited hug on him, but what could he do? With a sigh, he ran a hand over her hair, then around her shoulders.

“I’m  _ so  _ happy, Alastor,” Charlie gushed.

Alastor’s smile widened. “Good. Cherish that feeling.” He drew back from the hug, one finger trailing along Charlie’s jaw. “For now,” he murmured ominously, then drifted off into the fray.

Charlie frowned at his retreating back. Couldn’t Alastor just enjoy himself for once without embellishing it with doom? She rifled in her pocket for her watch and checked the time.

“It’s almost midnight!” she gasped. “Hey! Hey everyone!” Charlie clambered up onto the now-empty table that had been laden with champagne at the beginning of the night. Everyone was so buoyed by the celebration that any thought of what the stroke of midnight would bring was the furthest thing from their minds.

“Alright everybody! Up to the mezzanine for the count down!” Charlie announced over the din. She giggled at the sudden roar of cheers. Those who were not otherwise occupied with some illicit act or passed out began to shuffle up the various staircases, stumbling and tripping and giggling as they sloshed their drinks.

Charlie found Vaggie and grabbed her hand as they headed upstairs together.

The mezzanine mid-way up the towering hotel was a sprawling floor, dark except for the glittering lights of Pentagram City filtering in through the massive windows along the facade. The red glow of the city turned the crowd into scarlet ghouls, eyes shining as they looked toward the enormous clock tower. The last minute of the old year ticked away slowly.

As the clock hit fifteen seconds until the new year, Charlie felt her stomach drop. Her hand clenched in Vaggie’s.

Vaggie looked at her girlfriend with a smile. It dropped away as she saw the sudden sadness in Charlie’s eyes. She squeezed her hand back tightly in both of her own and tried to assuage her worry with a smile.

“Ten!” a chorus of voices shouted, and Charlie was back in the thrill of celebration. Her anxiety and excitement brewed a sick cocktail in her stomach, and she was glad for the champagne buzz that encouraged her toward reveling in the moment instead of dreading it.

“Nine!”

Angel had an arm hooked around both Husk and Cherri, the three wobbly as one uncertain, inebriated organism.

“Eight!”

Some of the party-goers apparently intended to make out throughout the entire countdown instead of waiting for the last second.

“Seven!”

A loud sob resounded in the tick between seconds.

“Six!”

“Stop your blubbering! We’re all gonna die!”

“Five!”

A thick tension permeated the room.

“Four!”

The countdown was no longer cheering. It had the tone of a death knell.

“Three!”

Panicked.

“Two!”

Fearful.

“One!”

Demons clutched each other as the first bell of the new year tolled. The city went dark, lights scattering out like roaches, and all that filled the room was the oppressive blood red sky. The traditional New Year’s kiss in Hell was not so much a promise of what was to come, but a clutching, desperate action of farewell. Angel planted one on Husk, then on Cherri with a drunk giggle. Charlie held Vaggie’s cheeks and kissed her deeply as tears ran down her cheeks.

Then they came. Slowly at first, just a trickle of bodies falling from the sky like meteorites, streaks of black, glittering with a deadly, Heavenly glow--a glow so bright it hurt to look at. As the clock chimed, the sky grew dark with the mass of them, the relentless Exterminators, Heaven’s own task force of murderous angels.

Alastor looked on with anticipation, his smile never faltering. 

“Let the  _ New Year  _ begin…”

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno if there are any Letterkenny fans (or Canadians) out there who are screaming at me for giving Husk a few Canandian lines. Sorry I'm not sorry sksksk. I headcanon that after a few tours in Vietname, he fled AWOL to Canada. I will die on this hill.
> 
> If you like what you see here, follow me over on Twitter [@vol_ctrl](https://twitter.com/vol_ctrl) to get the latest updates on what I'm working on, and see tons more Hazbin Hotel content ~


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